Rhett avoided his eyes. "Maybe. But the ones who realized I was woefully inept at picking up their social clues quickly gave up when they asked flat out and I said no."
"Why did you say no?"
Rhett buried his face in his hands. "I wish I knew. All I know is that I was so, so scared. I had this constant fear burning inside me. Fear of getting raped because I was sending off the wrong signals. Fear of getting laughed at and bullied because I did the wrong thing or came across as totally clueless. Fear of embarrassing myself, embarrassing Levar. Just…fear. Probably fueled by the way I was raised. The sad truth is that I can't remember a time in my life when I wasn't scared of something."
Okay, that was it. Calix had fought hard against the urge to hold Rhett and hug him, but that had to end now. He couldn't be expected to stay on the couch when the boy said such heartbreaking things and looked like he would burst out in tears at any moment.
"Come here," he told him.
Rhett's eyes widened. "What?"
"You know you can trust me. Come here, sweetheart."
Apprehension painted all over his face, Rhett slowly got up from his chair, swaying a little until he found his balance. His body was stiff as he sat down next to Calix. Yeah, none of that. Calix gently tugged Rhett's wrist, then harder to make his intention clear, and finally, the boy gave in.
Calix wrapped his arm around him and pulled Rhett against his chest, then held him close with his other arm as well. "Your honesty deserves a hug."
Shit, he should've asked. In his overwhelming need to offer comfort, he'd forgotten to check for consent. Stupid. "I'm sorry. I should've asked if you wanted to be hugged. I'm a toucher, always have been. Very tactile. Matthew always joked that whenever the two of us were home, I needed to touch him somewhere, even if it was just his feet. And now I'm rambling. I didn't mean to. Just… Is it okay? Is this okay?"
Rhett's reaction was a deep sigh, and then his body went slack in Calix's arms. That was a yes, then. "Did you need a hug, sweetheart?"
Rhett's yes came out muffled, his face hidden against Calix's chest.
"Good. So we'll hug."
He winced as his cock hardened again, excited by the first physical contact in five years. Should he say something? Chances were that with Rhett being as inexperienced as he was, he might not even pick up on it. No, he would ignore it and hope Rhett would do the same. Things were already complicated enough.
"So," he said, his voice soft and warm. "I'm starting to see the picture. We need to find you a guy you can safely experiment with. Someone who understands your background and where you're coming from and who won't judge." The more he thought about it, the more he liked that idea. "Someone patient, who understands he's a necessary step you need to gain confidence before moving on. You don't need to start dating right now or be serious about finding a boyfriend. You need to get laid in the safest, most encouraging environment possible."
Rhett mumbled something again.
"I didn't catch that, sweetheart."
Calix frowned, getting frustrated with himself. Why was he still calling Rhett that? He should really stop.
"Any idea where to find a paragon of male virtue like that? On rentatemporaryboyfriend.com?"
Calix snorted. Thank god Rhett hadn't lost his sense of humor. "I don't think we need to sink quite that low. I'm sure we can find someone in our network who would be willing to…" Hmm, what would be the correct term here? Definitely not date. Fuck was way too harsh and pedestrian. "Mentor you."
"Mentor me? That's gotta be the biggest euphemism ever."
"I know. I'm actually quite proud of that, especially when you consider I'm not exactly sober."
"Neither am I, or I never would've told you all this."
He had a point. In fact, they both did. They needed food before things got even more out of hand. "How about we check on dinner?"
With a sigh, Rhett pushed himself off, and Calix found himself strangely reluctant to let him go. "I assume that by we, you mean me?"
Calix held up his hands, smiling. "Not to be rude, but you're the one who kicked me out of my own kitchen."
"I did no such thing. I merely made a strong suggestion that you might find it more pleasurable to sit on the couch and relax than assist me."
"A strong suggestion… I'd say that's a contender for the biggest euphemism as well."
Rhett laughed. "Touché. But I'll see where we're at, and if I need your help, I will let you know."
Rhett did allow Calix to help make mashed potatoes, and then dinner was ready. In as far as one could call it dinner at three in the afternoon, but those were semantics. Regardless of what they labeled it, it tasted amazing.
"How on earth did you get the turkey this moist? Nine out of ten times it's dry, but yours isn't."
Rhett quirked an eyebrow. "Do you really want to know?"
Calix laughed. "You know what? You're right. I don't. It's not like I have any intention of ever cooking a turkey myself. So I'll just say it's delicious and thank you for making all this scrumptious food."
The food helped process the alcohol, aided by the fact that they had both switched to seltzer, and by the time they were done eating, Calix felt mostly sober again. Another new experience. In the last five years, he'd been drunk off his ass by this time of day. Strangely, he didn't even mind right now. Rhett had turned out to be a pleasant distraction from his usual wallows in grief. Was that a word, wallows? Whatever. The point was that this was the best Thanksgiving he'd had since Matthew had died. How unexpected.
He insisted on cleaning up in the kitchen, and when Rhett protested, he sent him back to the living room with a few firm words and a little nudge. The boy had cooked. That meant cleanup was Calix's duty. He put the leftovers in the fridge, rinsed everything off, loaded the dishwasher, wiped the counter and stove. There, done.
Now that they had food in their system, maybe Rhett would like to try an actual cocktail? He had plenty of ingredients for a variety of choices. He strolled into the living room, already opening his mouth to ask him, but then came to a stop.
Rhett had curled up on the couch, wrapped in the fleece blanket that always lay over the arm of the couch. He was asleep. His face had lost its tension and was now peaceful and even more beautiful than when he was awake.
Calix lowered himself into a chair opposite the couch, studying him, as tenderness and softness filled his body. What the hell was happening here? Matthew's kind spirit had to be rubbing off on him. The man had always had a big heart for the vulnerable, the weak and oppressed. He'd cried countless times, sharing stories about the kids and teenagers he encountered in his work. To him, being a social worker had not been a job; it had been a calling.
Matthew had never met a person in need he didn't reach out to. Had that spirit now taken up residence in Calix? Because this wasn't him. He wasn't unkind or uncaring, but he'd never been the person who felt this deep urge to help someone who was clearly struggling. And Rhett was; there was no denying that. Why did his plight affect Calix so much?
As he watched Rhett sleep, Calix turned the problem around in his head, looking at it from all angles, but he couldn't find a satisfying answer.